


cards against humanity/marvin’s birthday

by joisattempting



Series: look over there it's a wild falsettos college au [10]
Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: Alcohol, Card Games, F/F, F/M, M/M, Pillow & Blanket Forts, it’s fine, ok i now realise that thanksgiving comes after this, the origin of the dick painting, there’s actually a hint of actual whizzvin in this, wow marvin is twenty-one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:40:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21620044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joisattempting/pseuds/joisattempting
Summary: marvin turns twenty-one.
Relationships: Trina/Mendel Weisenbachfeld, Whizzer Brown/Marvin
Series: look over there it's a wild falsettos college au [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1518932
Comments: 10
Kudos: 50





	cards against humanity/marvin’s birthday

**Author's Note:**

> oh my gosh  
> i’m so so sorry. i haven’t written this in so long, i’m not sure why. but winter break is in two weeks, and i’m excited about the future of this series, so i hope i’ll be writing more frequently! again, i’m so sorry, and i hope you understand. 
> 
> anywho, this is marvin’s birthday fic! i’m gonna do one of these for each character. i had a lot of fun writing this one, so i hope it’s not terrible lmao
> 
> disclaimer: i reordered the series so that this came before the thanksgiving one, so that’s why this one is part ten! 
> 
> enjoy! comments and kudos make my day :)

Peeking over his shoulder, Cordelia frowned. Whizzer sat cross-legged on his rickety IKEA bed as he encased something in wrapping paper, albeit messily. His tongue jutted out of his mouth a little - a habit that never failed to come to the fore on the occasion that Whizzer was focusing on something. A certain blue-eyed law major could be found gawking in his direction, should he be slaving away at the stove or frantically writing a paper, the white light of his laptop screen casting a harsh glow across his tired face. 

“Are you sure about this, Whizzer? It’s not too late to get him something else,” 

The photographer smirked, clumsily tying a bow with a string of red ribbon. “No, I’m sure. He’ll love it,”

Something was wrong. The idle silence enveloping Shrek’s Swamp, the lack of bustle and chatter amongst the friends all pointed to one underlying reason; something was wrong. For a fleeting moment, Mendel wagered that that day, November twenty-first, was merely another one of Charlotte’s filler days. However, that thought was tossed to the curb by an incessant, badgering notion at the back of Mendel’s mind that yes, something was supposed to take place at that very second. He could cross Sowers’ daunting quiz on schizophrenia off the mental list of potential happenings - he’d taken it that morning. No deadlines, no essays, no coursework nor homework. And he’d only just hopped on a train to visit family recently - he certainly wasn’t due home anytime soon. Nevertheless, the bothersome nagging in his head wouldn’t depart until Mendel came to an answer. 

Umber eyes narrowed, the psychiatry major surveyed his subjects. Friends, rather. Whizzer fidgeted, an intermittent quiet giggle escaping his lips. He conversed in a hushed tone to Charlotte and Dee, who, in addition to the photographer, seemed to be laughing. As for Trina, she was curled up beside him, copper bangs shielding her forehead like the window’s floating drapes as she rested her head on his shoulder. Mendel made a mental note to never stray from that position for as long as he lived. Or at least until she pulled away, which he hoped wouldn’t be for as long as he lived. 

It was Marvin that baffled the noirette the most. Loudly, he busied himself in the kitchen, slamming doors and cabients as he made a sandwich. He seemed very interested in placing the eggs and spinach atop the crisp bread. Yes, eggs and spinach. Those sandwiches were digested frequently by Marvin as he grew up. Mrs Weisenbachfeld often made them in high school, bringing them up to Mendel’s room midway through their Tuesday therapy sessions. Of course, there had been a prolonged period of time where the eggs and spinach sandwiches were put on the back burner. Mendel remembered wishing with all his heart, as his best friend regretfully shook his head at his mother’s offerings, that this new, different Marvin would just pack up and go already. And, in its shell, leave behind the best friend he knew and loved more than anything. The best friend who laughed good-naturedly at his odd schemes and ideas, who gave him a reality check if need be. Who ate those notorious egg and spinach sandwiches. 

When he finally did, Mendel made a vow to never poke fun at them ever again.

The point was, the law student was far too immersed in the mystical world of sandwiches to not be putting something off. Then, the last two pieces of Mendel’s complex mental jigsaw finally snapped into place. 

“Marvin, it’s your birthday, isn’t it?” 

He’d hit the nail on the head. 

Marvin brushed breadcrumbs off his sweatshirt. By the looks of things, he hadn’t thought to get dressed up for his twenty-first. As a matter of fact, he hadn’t thought to get properly dressed at all. “Fuck you, ‘Del. I was hoping you’d forget,”

Cordelia rolled her eyes. “Forgetting your birthday is like forgetting Christmas, Marvin. It’s impossible,”

“Didn’t you forget when Christmas was before?” Trina gathered her short waves into a ponytail. 

“I will neither confirm nor deny,”

“The point is,” Whizzer shouted over the din. “Marvin’s twenty-one! We all need to be as nice as possible, so we have him on speed dial for booze,”

Yawning, the oldest in the room sank his teeth into bite three of the most questionable sandwich in the universe. Something told him that his ID would spend concerning amounts of time away from his wallet until each one of his friends was of age, which wouldn’t be until August. 

“It’s not like you don’t drink anyway,”

“Charlotte, I-“

“Anyway,” the doctor interjected, sensing a fight coming on. “We gotta do something. Maybe, like, a bar?” 

The blonde scoffed, sliding off the couch to snatch a Coke from the refrigerator. “Do we look like clubbing people? I didn’t think so,”

“Last time we went, I hid under a table and cried because ‘Don’t Stop Believing’ was playing. That song isn’t even sad,” Whizzer admitted, albeit reluctantly.

It was amusing to witness, their assorted types of drunkenness. Marvin’s confidence would soar as he stumbled onto various pieces of furniture, shouting incoherent nothings at bartenders and club-goers alike. In Mendel’s case, he’d snuggle close to Trina, droning on about how pretty she was and offering to braid her hair. They’d sat on the grimy sidewalk outside a bar once, his trembling fingers fashioning a clumsy French braid, complete with leaves that were “for the aesthetic”. As he did so, the Jewish girl spoke of things that her sober persona wouldn’t dream of. Endlessly, she flirted with the man, calling him handsome and running her hands down his itchy cardigan. Back at the bar, Whizzer and Cordelia sobbed under a table about how shitty the world was. Charlotte’s vocal talents were on full display as she hogged the karaoke machine. What was even better was the fact that everyone else was similar, if not the same. There wasn’t a shred of judgement in a bar. Despite its sleazy exterior, the six of them found that bars were one of the merriest places in the city. 

“I doubt Trina could go, even if she wanted to,” Mendel jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the girl, who gestured towards her stomach. 

Cordelia swallowed a sip of her soda. “Shit, you’re right. Sorry, Trina. She could be designated driver, or something, I don’t want her to be here all alone,”

“Let Marvin pick, you selfish little fuckers,” Whizzer said, taking Marvin by surprise. Brown met blue briefly, before the latter hastily tore his eyes away and took another bite of his food. “What do you wanna do?” Whizzer asked in his general direction. 

Truth be told, he didn’t know; growing up, his birthday was only so much as half-heartedly acknowledged. The only joy his parents felt on the day was due to the fact that he was one year closer to eighteen. One year closer to fleeing the nest and getting out of their hair. So, when Mrs Brown and Mrs Weisenbachfeld rallied his friends together for a surprise eighteenth birthday party, Marvin was left bewildered and lost. All his life, he’d found ways to entertain himself every November twenty-first. Whether that be nibbling at cheese and crackers at Trina’s, or staring into the endless cornflower sky on the grass in the Weisenbachfelds’ backyard. On that day, in his overwhelmed state, he decided that the deafening sound of his friends’ exhilarated chatter, and the music that made his ears ring, weren’t for him. For a brief ten minutes, he’d cried in the bathtub, Mendel awkwardly sitting on the closed lid of the toilet seat and listening to his blubberings. The energy dipped significantly after that, the six friends playing board games late into the night.

“Can we stay in?” he finally asked. “We can, I don’t know, Postmates some beer and cake and shit to the apartment. Cordelia has Cards Against Humanity, we can play that, too,”

Sympathetically, the others nodded. While Marvin puzzled over Postmates, the blonde found her box of Cards Against Humanity cards. Whizzer, Charlotte, Trina, and Mendel threw together a blanket fort, identical to the one the residents of Shrek’s Swamp had put together. Once the order was confirmed, all of them sat in a circle underneath the low ceiling of blankets. 

“Okay, Trina, are you ready to be corrupted? Forget your bat mitzvah, this is how you really become an adult,” Whizzer smirked, picking up the cards that Cordelia had doled out. 

“I really am not,” she replied, wincing as she read the answers on her cards. 

Marvin drew a black card from the middle of the circle, chuckling as he read it aloud. “What helps Obama unwind?” 

There was a silence as the group sifted through their cards, with a periodic giggle here and there. 

“Whizzer!” Marvin suddenly yelled. The taller man looked up at him, a mischievous grin spread across his face. “What does help Obama unwind?”

“Grave robbing,” the photographer said between chuckles.

Charlotte quirked an eyebrow. “Who’s grave is he gonna dig up? George Washington’s?”

“It’s possible,”

Marvin shook away the thought of Obama holding a shovel and attempting to dig through the earth, in search of George Washington’s tomb. “Thank you for putting that lovely image into my head. Trina? You have anything?”

The English major flipped her white card, to reveal the word “bees”, with a question mark beside it. It seemed to confuse her greatly. “I’ll leave you to interpret that however you want,”

Mendel burst into a fit of tinkling laughter. “I love the lack of conviction in that,” he said, after he composed himself. “It’s like, you don’t want to know the context behind that one,”

“I have ‘Michelle Obama’,” Charlotte piped. “An icon, honestly,”

“That... makes sense,” her girlfriend shrugged. Setting a white card down on the floor, Cordelia shuffled forward a little in her seat. “Mine’s ‘the KFC guy’,”

Marvin put a hand to his heart. “Nothing but respect for my president,” 

After Mendel and Marvin himself put in their answers, the chipper-sounding doorbell rang. Sighing, Charlotte answered it, having been deemed to be looking the most “presentable” at that moment. She returned to their fort with a box of cupcakes and a case of beer, plus a tall bottle of water for Trina’s sake. 

“Oh, Marvin! Hold on, I’ll get your present,” Whizzer said quickly, scrambling to his feet and rushing into the bedroom. It took all of Cordelia’s might to not start giggling uncontrollably. When asked if they knew anything about this mystery present, the other three shook their heads. 

Whizzer returned with a square-shaped, wrapped present in his hands. He’d done the wrapping himself - the messy edges and unnecessary amount of tape gave Marvin all the clue he needed. Smiling, he placed the parcel down on the hardwood. “Happy birthday, Marvin,”

Eagerly, the shorter man tore off the paper, flinging the ribbon at Mendel’s head. As the latter tied it across his forehead, Marvin tilted his head to the side, trying to figure out what exactly Whizzer had spent his money on. Without warning, he let out a howl of mirth, clutching at his sides as tears threatened to cascade down his ruddy cheeks. It was the crudest, most dirty painting that Marvin was certain he’d ever seen. Quite frankly, he wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting; Whizzer Brown had bought him a present, after all. 

“Is that what I think it is?” Mendel said incredulously. 

“You can put it above your bed,” Charlotte smiled. “Or burn it in hell. Your choice,”

After the childish giggles had died down, Cordelia found a candle and a lighter, then proceeded to violently stab the former into the icing of one of the small cakes. 

“Make a wish, Marv,” Whizzer said, and kissed him on the cheek. 

Marvin didn’t have time to look at the others as a giddy happiness filled him. Lifting his head, he could only ogle at his friend, who winked and gestured in the direction of the dancing candle flame. The law student’s face flushed scarlet as he squeezed his baby blues shut. 

I wish for every year to be as good as this one.


End file.
